One White Tree and Other Stories
by Neige
Summary: Complete. One: Faramir wants to know why his Papa keeps a dead tree in the courtyard, and Finduilas provides an answer. Two: Boromir finds that being an older brother is not always easy. Three: Boromir has an idea that will bring Mama back.
1. One White Tree

_Note: _Everyone deserves a bit of fluff, including the family of Gondor's Steward. Thus, I present this: innocent family sweetness. At least, I hope it is. I'm rather new to the world of fluff, but I quite enjoyed writing this. : ) 

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing. If we want to nitpick Esdur and Beriadir are mine, but the Professor could have them any day.

One White Tree

"Faramir, you are the fastest boy in all of Gondor!" Finduilas called to her son as the boy raced ahead of her. Their footsteps echoed in the white stone corridor leading outside, Faramir winning by several lengths. They halted at the archway, hand in hand, while the Lady of Minas Tirith caught her breath, clutching a half-made scarf to her chest.

"And I shall be the biggest boy in Middle Earth! Taller than Boromir, even!" Faramir exclaimed as they began to walk. The two guards on either side of the passage bowed low, holding in place their winged hats.

"Good morn, Esdur, Beriadir. A fine day it will be!" Finduilas greeted, blinking in the sunlight.

"Indeed my lady," replied Beriadir. Faramir tugged at his mother's skirts.

"We'll be off, Faramir," she laughed, and together they set off leisurely across the courtyard.

"Mama! Come sit with me at the fountain! I can play prince and rescue you from peril, if you wish."

"That would be lovely, Faramir. Of course I would like to play." Finduilas seated herself on the stone edge of the fountain, spreading her needlework at her side. Behind her, the clear water pooled around a fading white-gray tree. While Faramir watched, a drip from the fountain caught on a barren branch and quivered for a few moments before falling back in. Presently, this was repeated on several different branches, and Faramir wondered vaguely how the tree could appear so sad. Finduilas reached out a delicate finger and let a droplet slip onto it and return to the pool. She sighed wearily, her pale skin drawn tightly across her high cheekbones.

Faramir, being small, took no notice, and instead he asked, "Why does Papa keep a dead tree?" For he could think of much nicer ones to plant there. Finduilas drew him into her lap and wrapped her arms about her youngest son.

"It is the King's tree, Far. Isildur planted it."

"Isildur?"

"Yes, the King. And it grew and grew-"

"Like me?" asked Faramir, grinning broadly.

"Why, yes, just like you!" laughed his mother, and for Faramir, the day seemed brighter. "But it died when King Belecthor did, the last King of Gondor. And it has remained her ever since."

"Even though it is sad and dead?"

"Even though it is lonely and far from its home. It comes from Valinor, you know." Finduilas absently stroked her son's forehead, blue eyes gazing westward, to the sea.

"That is a sad story, Mama."

"It is. The White Tree is a sad tree."

"Someday, there shall be a new tree in its place, and a new King. I know it."

"You know?" Finduilas smiled at the confidence in Faramir's voice.

"Yes. If I wish very hard, it shall happen," he stated firmly.

"Then it shall." And as he spoke there came a wind from the north that sent the clouds scuttling. The Dead Tree swayed mournfully, sending water to scatter in the pool below. Finduilas shivered and was suddenly reminded that it was only February.

"Shall we go back, Mama?" asked Faramir, also feeling the cold. "It's nearly time for lunch."

Finduilas nodded and set Faramir on his feet. She gathered her unfinished sewing, and taking her son's hand, the two returned to the palace to seek out the kitchens.

(l)

Thanks for reading!


	2. Seven Stars

_Note: _Hullo again! I wrote this at the same time as The White Tree, planning to post it later. So here goes. For anyone who has noticed, the titles follow the phrase Pippin sees in Minas Tirith in Return of the King, which goes (I believe it does- I don't have the book with me right now) like this: "Seven stars and seven stones and one white tree." The "Seven Kings" bit shall be up soon, hopefully within the week. 

_Disclaimer:_ Not. Mine. At. All. It would be a lovely birthday gift, but my birthday has just passed. What rotten luck! : )

Seven Stars

Boromir watched as Faramir, in his nightshirt, padded silently to the window and sat on the cushioned ledge. Being ten, a full five years older than his brother, and knowing well his duties, Boromir slipped quietly to his side.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Faramir shook his head, and Boromir saw a gleam of tears on his cheek. He put an arm around his younger brother's shoulder. "Mama?" he guessed. Faramir nodded swallowing hard.

"When...when Mama dies..." he began unsteadily, "Will she be a star?" Boromir followed Faramir's gaze out of the window, into the night sky.

"Mama will be well again. Father told me so," he assured, doing his best to sound as confident as his father.

"Do we all have stars?" Faramir asked, stifling a sob. Boromir pulled him close, as he had seen Finduilas do to comfort his brother.

"I don't know," he replied, uncertain of what to say.

"But what about the seven stars the guards wear? Aren't they ours?"

Boromir wasn't so sure, but he agreed for fear of upsetting Faramir further.

"I think those are ours," stated Faramir solidly. "One for me, one for you, Papa, Mama, Uncle Imrahil, and Grandfather."

"You don't remember Grandfather, you were only a baby when he died," reminded Boromir.

"But I still love him," Faramir sniffed.

"And anyway," Boromir reminded, finding it difficult to set aside the I told you so role of an elder brother, "that was only six. There are seven stars."

Faramir was silent for a moment before he replied, "The other is for the King, then, so he can come back and make Mama well."

"Do you think he'll come back?" asked Boromir skeptically.

"Of course he shall. He is the King, and he would not leave his country."

Boromir said nothing as Faramir continued, "And he shall be King of Gondor, and you his Steward."

Faramir paused. . "But- but will you let me crown him with you? For I shall love him dearly as my lord, and…and I would die for him, if he asked it."

Boromir hugged his brother tight. "Of course you shall crown him. We shall be Stewards together. Would you like that?"

"I should like that very much, Bor." Boromir smiled, wiping away the tear that clung to the tip of Faramir's nose, and looked to the sky and his seven stars.

(l)

Thanks for reading!

_A timeline for you convenience:_

_2852 King Belecthor II dies, and with him the White Tree. The Dead Tree remains._

_2976 Denethor II and Finduilas wed_

_2978 Birth of Boromir_

_2983 Birth of Faramir_

_2984 Death of Ecthelion II. Denethor II becomes Steward._

_2988 Death of Finduilas_

I find it interesting to note that Faramir and Samwise Gamgee are the same age. At the time of this story, (year 2988), Isildur's heir is 57 years old and guarding the Shire as the Chieftain of the Dunedain.

A/N I do hope I got the sibling relation thing right. As both a younger sister and an older sister, I am somewhat acquainted with the predicaments of both brothers. Comforting a sibling can be quite difficult at times, as many of us know. And also very complicated.

Thanks for the lovely responses, and best wishes to you all for the new year!


	3. Seven Stones

A disclaimer: If I owned this, I would be fabulously happy and would not have to write fan fiction. Since I'm still here, writing fics, I don't own Lord of the Rings. Ah, well. 

_A timeline (also seen in Part Two):_

_2852 King Belecthor II dies, and with him the White Tree. The Dead Tree remains._

_2976 Denethor II and Finduilas wed_

_2978 Birth of Boromir_

_2983 Birth of Faramir_

_2984 Death of Ecthelion II. Denethor II becomes Steward._

_2988 Death of Finduilas_

A note: Hullo! This is the last story in this little trio. I want to thank all of the readers who have spent some time on this little tale of fluff, and especially my reviewers, who really help to brighten my day. Thanks for putting up with me! :D

Seven Stones

It was after dinner when Boromir crept into his fathers study. Outside, the sun had set, and a quiet wind blew back the black standards on the walls of Minas Tirith, mourning the death of the Steward's dear wife.

Denethor was absorbed in a dusty volume that was nearly as large as his desk. Both father and son still wore the color of mourning, as was customary, but Boromir looked anything from grief-stricken.

"Papa!" he burst out, racing to Denethor's side, unable to contain his enthusiasm. "Papa, I know!"

Denethor smiled wanly at his eldest son. "Know what?"

"I know how to see Mama again!"

Denethor was silent, searching for a response to Boromir's discovery without causing a flurry of tears.

"A palantir, father," continued Boromir, breathless. "One of the seven stones! We can talk to Mama in it!"

He looked so hopeful, so confident, standing beside his father with the answer to all of their sorrows. Denethor sighed and gently closed the book. He drew Boromir into his lap, something of a feat with the growing child.

"Boromir, Mama is dead."

"But the palantir- magic!" Boromir did not tell his father that he had learned of the seeing stones from Mithrandir, who was, after all, a wizard, and had to know of such things.

"We cannot see her, my son. She is gone." Denethor took Boromir's hand and held it tight. "She cannot come back."

"Ever?" Boromir asked shakily, after a long silence.

"Someday, maybe, but not for a very long time."

"So...the palantir won't work?"

"No, Bor," he answered, using Finduilas' nickname. "They will not work."

"But I miss her," whispered Boromir.

"Boromir, we all do, but she watches us, even now. Mama still loves us." Finduilas, would that you were here to comfort you sons. To comfort you husband.

"She still loves us?"

"Of course. Love never ends." Denethor pulled his son close.

"Does she watch us from her star? Is she happy? I don't think she is ill any longer." Boromir's old excitement was back as he thought of this.

Denethor did not understand Boromir's mention of a star, but he liked to think that his wife was in the heavens, looking down on her family. Happy.

"Yes, she is happy. There is no pain or illness where she is." Take care of my Finduilas, Illuvatar. "She is happy."

He hated to think of the tales swirling about the court, that Finduilas had faded away in her longing for the sea. He did not know if she had, indeed perished of despair; all he understood was that the healers could do nothing, and he could but look on as his beloved wife wasted away before his own eyes.

But, he reminded himself, she was happy now. She had found peace and rest and the sea, and someday, he would meet her there.

A tug on his collar brought him from his reverie, and he found himself looking into Boromir's curious face.

"Papa, are you well?"

Denethor smiled in earnest and blinked away tears- when had his eyes started to water? Boromir snuggled into his father's chest as he answered, "Yes, Bor. I am." I will be.

"Papa?" asked Boromir's muffled voice.

"Yes?"

"I love you. Mama loves you too."

Denethor closed his eyes, silently thanking Finduilas for their son.

_-Fin-_

According to Professor Tolkien: When mortals die, they dwell for a short time in a special part of the Halls of Waiting before passing forever out of the circles of the world.

Thank you, readers!


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